The Siamese Twin Mystery Read Free

gap. It was apparently a road leading up through the steep and almost impassable tangle of forest which matted the chest of Arrow Mountain like a giant’s hair.
    Ellery wrestled powerfully with the wheel. The Duesenberg darted back, screamed, surged forward with a roar. In second gear it bit into a hard-packed dirt road set at an alarming angle to the main highway. The motor whined and keened and sang—and the car clawed its way up. It gathered speed, creeping up. It hurtled on, flashing up. Now the road began to wind; a curve, a swift wind inexpressibly sweet, scented with pine needles, a delicious chill in the air. …
    Incredibly, within twenty seconds, they had left fire, smoke, their fate and their death behind.
    It was utterly black now—the sky, the trees, the road. The air was like liquor; it bathed their tortured lungs and throats with coolness that was half warmth, and they both became silently intoxicated upon it. They gulped it down, sniffing mightily until they felt their lungs must burst. Then they both began to laugh.
    “Oh, God,” gasped Ellery, stopping the car. “It’s all—all too fantastic!”
    The Inspector giggled: “Just like that! Whew.” He took out his handkerchief, trembling, and passed it over his mouth.
    They both removed their hats and exulted in the cold feel of the wind. Once they looked at each other, trying to pierce the darkness. Both fell silent soon, the mood passing; and finally Ellery released his handbrake and set the Duesenberg in motion.
    If the road below had been difficult, this ahead was impossible. It was little more than a cowpath, rocky and overgrown. But neither man could find it in his heart to curse it. It was a boon sent from heaven. It kept winding and climbing, and they wound and climbed with it. Of human beings not a trace. The headlights groped ahead of them like the antennae of an insect. The air grew steadily sharper, and the sweet sharp arboreal smell was like wine. Winged things hummed and dashed themselves against the lights.
    Suddenly Ellery stopped the car again.
    The Inspector, who had been dozing, jerked awake. “What’s the matter now?” he mumbled sleepily.
    Ellery was listening intently. “I thought I heard something ahead.”
    The Inspector cocked his gray head. “People up here, maybe?”
    “It seems unlikely,” said Ellery dryly. There was a faint crashing from somewhere before them, not unlike the sound of a large animal in undergrowth far away.
    “Mountain lion, d’ye think?” growled Inspector Queen, feeling a little nervously for his service revolver.
    “Don’t think so. If it is, I daresay he’s in for more of a scare than we. Are there catamounts in these parts? Might be a—a bear or a deer or something.”
    He urged the car forward again. Both were very wide awake, and both felt distinctly uncomfortable. The crashing grew louder.
    “Lord, it sounds like an elephant!” muttered the old man. He had his revolver out now.
    Suddenly Ellery began to laugh. There was a comparatively long stretch of straight road here, and around the far curve came two fingers of light, as if fumbling in the darkness. In a moment they straightened out and glared into the Duesenberg’s own brilliant eyes.
    “A car,” chuckled Ellery. “Put that cannon away, you old lady. Mountain lion!”
    “Didn’t I hear you say something about a deer?” retorted the Inspector. Nevertheless he did not return the revolver to his hip pocket.
    Ellery stopped the car once more; the headlights of the approaching automobile were very close now. “Good to have company in a place like this,” he said cheerfully, jumping out and stepping before his own lights. “Hi!” he shouted, waving his arms.
    It was a crouching old Buick sedan that had seen better days. It came to rest, its battered nose snuffling the dirt of the road. It seemed occupied by only one passenger: a man’s head and shoulders were dimly visible behind the dusty windshield, illuminated by the